


Method Acting

by Magz (sparklepocalypse)



Category: Queer as Folk (US) RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2015-08-09
Packaged: 2018-04-13 15:54:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4528158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparklepocalypse/pseuds/Magz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Gale drinks tea, Randy gets a clue, and there is sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Method Acting

> _FADE IN:_
> 
> _INT. BRIAN'S LOFT - NIGHT_
> 
> _BRIAN and JUSTIN enter, passing a lit cigarette between them, both of them slightly drunk._
> 
>  
> 
> JUSTIN
> 
> You could've fucked that guy in the backroom, you know. I wouldn't have minded.
> 
>  
> 
> BRIAN
> 
> _(tossing his coat aside and kicking off his shoes)_
> 
> Maybe I didn't want to.
> 
>  
> 
> _JUSTIN walks through the loft toward the bedroom, then stops at the stairs and turns to address BRIAN, who is following him._
> 
>  
> 
> JUSTIN
> 
> _(casually)_
> 
> He was hot.
> 
>  
> 
> _BRIAN nods and pulls JUSTIN closer with a finger in his belt loop, then drapes an arm around his waist. He leans in very close, as if to kiss him._
> 
>  
> 
> BRIAN
> 
> Don't fish for compliments.
> 
> _(kisses JUSTIN)_
> 
>  
> 
> JUSTIN
> 
> From you? I wouldn't dream of it.
> 
>  
> 
> _JUSTIN backs up, stepping backward up the stairs to BRIAN's bedroom and pulling BRIAN with him. BRIAN stands back and watches JUSTIN as he undresses, then shoves his pants off and nudges JUSTIN onto the bed._
> 
>  
> 
> JUSTIN
> 
> I talked to the dean at PIFA today. He said that given the new controversy surrounding Stockwell, there's a chance they'll let me in next semester, if I re-submit my work.
> 
>  
> 
> BRIAN
> 
> _(making a face)_
> 
> Great topic of discussion while I'm trying to fuck you, Justin. Do you want my dick to go soft or something?
> 
>  
> 
> JUSTIN
> 
> _(kisses Brian; reaching down between their bodies -- his arm moves a few times, slowly and obviously)_
> 
> Doesn't feel very soft.
> 
> _(pulls Brian down for another kiss, but is evaded)_
> 
> Brian?
> 
>  
> 
> BRIAN
> 
> _(crawling down Justin's body; pausing to bite Justin's nipple)_
> 
> Hmm?
> 
> _(moves O.S.)_
> 
>  
> 
> JUSTIN closes his eyes and arches his back.
> 
> _FADE OUT_

"Short scene," Randy commented as he glanced over it again. "You'd think they'd give us more lines..."

"Maybe the writers finally realized that the most important part of the scene for the viewer is to see us naked," Gale suggested, thumbing through the script. He took an absent sip of his tea and set it back down on the table between them.

Randy shook his head and laughed. Then he stood and rolled his neck, adjusting his glasses with one hand. "I should go work on my lines," he said, looking at the page again. "All five of them. I'll see if I can get the feel for them."

"What's there to feel?" Gale asked. "Justin talks about Brian tricking, a scenario you could hit perfectly on a bad day. Then there's stuff about school and Stockwell. It's no big deal." He wrapped his fingers around his paper cup and rubbed the warm container a few times. "Besides, I wanted to talk to you about something, although this might not be the place for it."

"What about?" Randy asked, warily. He sat back down and leaned back in his chair.

"Method acting."

Randy shot Gale a dubious look. "You want to talk to me about method acting?"

Gale rubbed the back of his neck and hedged, "Sort of. It's not really that important."

"No, no, if you have something you need to say, then say it," the blond man said, setting his chair upright again. After a moment, he offered, "We could go to my trailer if you think you'd be more comfortable talking there."

"Sure," Gale said after a brief pause. He took another sip of his tea and then stood, straightening his coat and following Randy out of the catering tent with his script in hand.

"I honestly didn't expect you to come to me for acting advice," Randy admitted as they crossed the lot to the trailers. He pulled his keys out of his pocket and fiddled with the chain. "But if you think I can help -- "

"I'm sure you can," Gale interjected. "It's a concern about acting with you, anyway."

Randy slid his key into the lock on his trailer door, then turned and scrutinized his co-star. "You don't have a -- a problem working with me, do you? Because if you do, I'm really sorry I didn't notice..."

"It's nothing like that," the dark-haired man replied. "Don't worry." He offered a smile, tossing his cup in a trashcan outside the trailer as Randy opened the door. When Randy didn't look convinced, he insisted, "I promise. It's nothing bad."

"Okay," Randy murmured, stepping aside to let Gale in. "Ignore the mess, I've been meaning to clean up in here."

Gale stepped inside the trailer and looked around. "What mess?" he asked, observing the nearly spotless interior. He turned to Randy. "Mind if I take a seat?"

"Go ahead," Randy said, straightening a pillow on the couch and sitting on one end as Gale sat on the other. "So what's up?"

"I figured I'd better ask you, since you know your character better than anyone else," Gale began. "I've always wondered..." he looked at his knees and shifted subtly closer to Randy. "... what is Justin feeling when he and Brian are having sex?"

Randy was a bit taken aback by the question. He cleared his throat loudly and furrowed his brow as he pondered how to answer. Coughed once. Swallowed. "Uh..." He frowned, promptly kicking himself mentally for his seemingly instantaneous loss of all verbal skills.

Gale noticed Randy's discomfort and smiled a little. "I'm sorry. I put you on the spot."

"No, it's alright," Randy managed. "You just surprised me, that's all." He leaned against the arm of the couch and crossed his legs.

"I want to get a little more insight into our characters," the dark-haired man explained. "So I figured you'd be the person to talk to." He glanced at Randy, then back at his lap. "Seeing that I've never actually had gay sex myself, I was hoping you'd be able to help me out here. Say, for example..." He held up his script. "Brian's giving Justin a blowjob. What's it like for Justin?"

"Um. Well. From the way I've played Justin so far, I'd say that a lot of the time, a big part of it is the emotional aspect behind the sex, no matter what they're doing," Randy said, still very curious as to why, exactly, his seemingly straight co-star was asking him about this. "But other than that, I'll hazard a guess and say that Justin feels about the same as you would, if a girl were sucking you off."

"I don't exactly have a basis of comparison," Gale responded. He thumbed along the edge of his script. "You might have to help me out here." He bit his lip. "I mean, unless this is making you too uncomfortable, which I can completely understand -- "

"No, it's fine," Randy interjected. "I've just never been interviewed about my sexual experiences before, besides a few comparison questions between myself and Justin." He looked Gale in the eye. "I don't have a problem with it. You really want to know?"

"Yeah."

Randy took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "Getting head from a guy is like... He knows what he likes, right? So he uses that knowledge on you. Sometimes he won't do the same thing twice, and he's always changing his pace, or touching something different, because if you just have the plain up and down without some variety, it gets boring, you know? So he's sucking hard one minute, then licking your dick like a popsicle the next. And instinct plays a big part of it. If he can figure out when you're going to come, and work just a little harder to make it that much better..."

The blond man opened his eyes and exhaled a laugh. "I got a little carried away there. Sorry about that."

"Don't worry about it," Gale murmured. He was sitting a lot closer than he had been before, Randy noticed. Their thighs were several inches apart, but for some inexplicable reason, Randy could feel the heat from his body radiating into his own. Funny how he'd never noticed before how _warm_ Gale was.

"Will that -- " Randy stopped and licked his lips when his voice cracked just a little. "Will that help you figure things out?"

Gale sat mutely for a moment, his eyes flashing with something else Randy hadn't ever noticed before. For that brief minute, Randy could've sworn that Gale's face was getting closer to his, that he could feel Gale's breath on his cheek.

Then Gale, who was still leaned against the back of the couch in the same position he'd been in before, offered a lopsided smile. Randy blinked a few times to clear his head and decided that he was crazy for thinking that his straight co-star would do such a thing.

"Yeah, that'll definitely help," Gale said, smile still in place. "Thanks." He got to his feet and moved to the door of the trailer, opening it and stepping down. The door closed halfway before he leaned back inside and said, "And Randy?"

"Hmm?"

"That's nothing like getting blown by a girl." He swung out of the trailer and closed the door, leaving Randy slumped on the couch with a cock hard enough to chisel granite.

It took him a few minutes to realize that Gale hadn't asked him a single thing about method acting.

The set was closed, the lights set, the cameras ready. On cue, Randy and Gale burst into the loft, sliding the door shut with a solid bang behind them. They each took a drag off the nearly burnt-out cigarette and then Gale stubbed it out in an ashtray on the kitchen counter.

"You could've fucked that guy in the backroom, you know," Randy recited, suddenly he was Justin, and Gale was Brian. "I wouldn't have minded." He shrugged out of his coat and draped it over a chair in the kitchen as the dark-haired man tossed his own garment aside.

Prada boots thumped against the floor. "Maybe I didn't want to." An expensive silk shirt fluttered down to join the boots.

"He was hot." It was a casual statement, with just the right amount of smile, a glance up through long eyelashes. The blond smiled wider as he was pulled against a sold chest and arms wrapped around his waist. He tilted his head up, expecting a kiss.

"Don't fish for compliments." Then came the scripted kiss, short and light, followed by another.

A laugh. "From you? Wouldn't dream of it."

They maneuvered themselves into the bedroom without falling up the stairs. Hands fumbled with clothing. The camera panned away from Randy as he unfastened his jeans and pushed them down, focusing on Gale's lower back and ass which were currently being exposed.

"And... cut," the director said when Gale's pants dropped to around his ankles.

The dark-haired actor pulled his pants up and fastened them, then left his mark while Randy disappeared into a corner of the set to put on his cocksock. Gale took a bottle of water from a table outside the soundstage while he waited, drinking a bit of it and humming a verse of _I'm a Little Teapot_ to himself. When he reached "tip me over and pour me out," he knew Randy would be done putting on the ridiculous little spandex garment, so he sauntered back to the set and took his mark again, rotating his shoulder cuffs. "All set?" he asked his co-star.

Randy nodded, more to the director than to Gale.

Gale casually dropped his pants.

Randy rolled his eyes.

"Action," said the director.

The camera panned up Gale's body to his face as he gazed at Randy, lips parted with interest, before pushing the slighter man backward onto the bed.

Randy fell onto the mattress with a grunt, rolling his neck as Gale climbed atop him and straddled his thighs. He allowed the dark-haired man to manipulate his body for a moment, feeling his hands pinned down at his sides as Gale leaned down for a quick, unscripted kiss. The director didn't say anything, so Randy went along with it. He freed a hand and twined his fingers in Gale's unbelievably soft -- another thing he'd only recently noticed about him -- hair. "I talked to the dean at PIFA today."

"Mm-hmm," Gale murmured as he kissed down Randy's throat, biting at his collarbone.

"He said that given the new controversy surrounding Stockwell, there's a chance they'll let me in next semester, if I re-submit my work." Randy tilted his head back to look up at Gale as his co-star raised himself above him with a glare.

"Great topic of discussion while I'm trying to fuck you, Justin," Gale said, sliding his lower body against Randy's. "Do you want my dick to go soft or something?"

Randy shook his head with a smile and pulled Gale down to kiss him slowly. He freed his other hand and snaked it between them, rubbing Gale's belly in a way that quite convincingly faked a hand job. "Doesn't feel very soft," he purred against Gale's chin as he kissed him there. He searched for Gale's mouth with his and frowned on cue when the dark-haired man slithered down his body and dropped random kisses. "Brian?"

Gale smiled around Randy's nipple as he bit it lightly and the blond man hissed in faked pleasure. He dragged his tongue down Randy's torso. "Hmm?"

The camera moved up a bit as Gale moved down, resting his cheek on Randy's thigh just out of view of the lens. Randy squeezed his eyes shut and began a mantra telling himself that Gale _wasn't_ lingering down near his dick on purpose.

Gale's warm breath on his groin was doing nothing for his attempt at staying soft.

He didn't find it difficult at all to arch his back with a groan when Gale slipped off him and off the bed.

"... Cut," the director called. "That was beautiful, guys. I don't think we'll need to do a re-shoot."

It seemed to Randy that Gale was taking an awfully long time putting his pants back on. Mostly, he thought, because Gale was currently asking him about his cocksock.

"It can't really be that comfortable to... tie everything up like that," Gale said with a glance that was almost too long to be considered appropriate, at the aforementioned 'everything'.

"It serves its purpose," Randy said, pulling on his cotton robe and padding toward the bathroom set again. "It's not like I wear it 24/7," he called over his shoulder. He made quick work of the scrap of material, then re-dressed and headed back out to the bedroom set.

Where Gale still hadn't finished putting his pants on.

Randy stood in the doorway of the bathroom, muttering, "Don't look at his ass, don't look at his ass," under his breath, as he stared at Gale's ass. He then offered himself a swift mental kick for the whimper that threatened to bubble up when Gale pulled his pants up.

Gale turned around and smiled at Randy as he zipped and buttoned his fly. "So we're done for the day," he said.

Randy offered a large, fake smile, saying, "Thank God," to himself. "Are you going to hit the clubs?"

"Nah, I thought I'd stay in tonight. I've got a few big scenes to shoot tomorrow. I need to get some sleep. Where did I put my shirt?"

 _Thank you, Gale, for drawing my attention to the fact that you're half-naked_ , Randy thought, pointing into the kitchen set. "Over there," he said. "With your shoes."

"Hey, maybe I'll call you later," Gale said as he plucked up his shirt and shrugged into it.

Randy wasn't sure what reaction was expected of him, so he managed another smile and said, "Sure."

He only hoped that he didn't end up doing something drastic when Gale called, like hang up, drive to his apartment, and fuck him until one of them passed out.

 

 

It was 12:43 when Randy's phone rang. He'd given up on Gale calling him about an hour before, and was getting ready to go to bed. A quick glance at the caller ID told him that it was his co-star, who had unwittingly become the star of Randy's recent sexual fantasies.

Randy sighed and picked up, trying to convince himself that his hand wasn't shaking because Gale was calling him. "Hello?" He walked across the room and turned up the heat.

Gale scratched his belly and shifted in his bed, his lean form sprawled across the mattress lazily. "Hey, Randy," he said. "I didn't wake you, did I?" He took a drag off his cigarette and exhaled slowly through his nose.

"Nah," Randy said as he stepped out of his shoes and nudged them to the side, together, with one foot. He tucked the phone under his ear as he unbuckled his belt and unzipped his fly. "How's it going?" His pants fell to the carpet with a soft thump and his underwear soon followed. He yanked his shirt over his head.

"Not bad," Gale replied. "Listen, you know how I asked you a few questions the other day?"

Yeah, Randy knew. He glanced down at his dick, rolling his eyes when it throbbed in remembrance. "Yeah..." he acknowledged as he gathered up his clothes and carried them to the laundry hamper next to his dresser.

"I have something else I wanted to ask you." Gale flicked his cigarette twice over an ashtray on his nightstand.

Randy sat down on his bed. "What is it?"

Gale took a drag, blew a few smoke rings, and asked, "Does come taste different when it comes from different guys?"

_Sproing._

Randy glared at his cock, which was now standing at full attention. He fumbled with the phone, having nearly dropped it in reaction to Gale's question. He wondered if Gale would notice if he started jacking off.

"Randy?" Gale asked, his tone a little worried. "Are you alright?"

"... Yeah," Randy finally replied. "Yeah, I'm fine." He lay back in bed. "These questions of yours just keep catching me off-guard."

He could practically _hear_ Gale smile in relief. And hearing Gale smiling made him picture Gale smiling, which really didn't do anything to help him get rid of his hard-on.

"Good," Gale murmured. He wondered if Randy had figured him out yet. "Listen, the only reason I'm asking is because Bobby's with his boyfriend, and Peter's out of town, and I'm not really comfortable asking Jack..."

"It's okay, Gale," Randy replied. "Really."

Gale stubbed the cigarette out and blew out one last drag of smoke. He switched the telephone to his other ear and rested his free hand low on his belly, his fingertips absently brushing through the fine line of hair that led from his navel to his groin. "So, is it?"

"Is what?" Randy had been so busy getting out his trusty bottle of lube and slicking up his palm that he'd nearly forgotten what they'd been talking about.

"Is the taste of come different, depending on the guy? I mean, the only come I've ever tasted is my own, and -- "

Randy's cock jumped in his hand and he bit his lip to stifle a groan. Gale had tasted his own come. _Guh._

" -- it just tasted, you know... salty." Gale listened to Randy's breathing gradually grow rougher on the other end of the line and smiled slowly.

"Ah -- well, it does depend on the guy. Sort of," Randy said, pulling on his cock and closing his eyes. "What they eat, that kind of thing."

Gale's fingers drifted lower, threading through his wiry pubic hair. He was going to jerk off to thoughts of Randy jerking off to him. It was gonna be _damn_ good. "Maybe I should cut down on my sodium intake." He finished his sentence on a laugh as he took the spongy head of his cock between his thumb and forefinger and rubbed.

Randy gritted his teeth and inhaled sharply at the sound of that soft laugh, hoping Gale hadn't heard him. "A lot of it is genetic," he said in as normal a voice as he could manage. He couldn't believe he was talking to Gale about the flavor of his semen. "I mean, you might not be able to do anything about it."

"Hmm." Gale palmed his balls, then ran his index finger up the thick vein on the underside of his dick. He adjusted the phone and spread his legs a bit wider. "At least I've never had someone spit, so I guess it can't be that bad of a taste, compared to some."

The image that came to Randy's mind wasn't of a girl on her knees in front of Gale, but rather himself. Shit. He pressed the phone to his ear with his shoulder, then reached for his cell with his now-freed hand, fumbling with the buttons until he reached the ring tones menu. He bucked up into his hand as he pressed one last button. The ring tone was loud in the otherwise quiet room. "Shit," he muttered. "That's my cell. I have to take this call, Gale. I'll talk to you later, alright?"

"Yeah, alright," Gale replied, licking the tip of his index finger and circling it around one small, hard nipple. "See you on set tomorrow, Randy. G'nite."

"Goodnight," Randy echoed, hitting the 'talk' button on his cordless and tossing it aside. He pulled twice on his weeping dick, then arched his back and came with a groan.

On the other side of town, Gale smiled to himself, turned off his phone, and jacked himself off with the sound of Randy's badly concealed moans echoing in his head.

 

 

When Gale asked Randy about rimming, a week after their late-night phone call, Randy choked on his coffee. He coughed and wheezed and generally caused a scene until Gale stood up and thumped him on the back.

Randy set down his coffee and took a deep breath. "Thanks," he said as Gale sat back down. "Jesus, Gale."

"What?" The dark-haired man gave him an innocent smile.

"Remind me not to have anything to drink nearby, the next time you're around." He shook his head and closed his eyes for a moment.

"So," Gale said, lowering his voice to a near-whisper, "rimming. What's it like?"

The blond man nearly choked again. "I'm not sure, based on your heterosexuality, that it'd appeal to you," he said, turning and looking out across the studio lot.

"Randy," Gale said, and Randy wished he wouldn't say his name so often, especially like _that_ , "do you think I'd have taken this job if I were uncomfortable with the idea of two guys having sex?" He smiled and touched Randy's arm briefly. "I'm just trying to get a better grip on what makes Brian feel good."

Goosebumps rippled up the blond's arm from the point where Gale's fingers had rested. He pulled his hand back and rested it on his thigh. "Can we maybe talk about this somewhere other than the catering tent?"

"My trailer?" Gale offered.

"Sure. Let me just finish my coffee, and I'll meet you there."

"Great." Gale stood up and pushed in his chair, then ran a hand through his hair, flashed Randy a bone-melting smile, and headed across the lot.

Randy sat back and drank his coffee slowly. He wasn't avoiding going to Gale's trailer. Nope. Not one bit. At all. Sort of.

Okay, so he was a big fat liar. At least he had the decency to admit it to himself.

He dragged his feet on the way to Gale's trailer. Gale was leaning against the door, smoking a cigarette, and waiting for him. "Thought for a minute that you weren't coming," he said.

Randy faked a smile as he watched Gale's lips wrap around the cigarette filter. "I got held up," he replied. It was only a little lie.

Gale tossed the cigarette to the ground and put it out with his heel, then opened the door. He placed a hand on the small of Randy's back and guided him into the trailer, stepping inside behind him. "Can I get you something?"

"No, thanks." The blond man moved away from Gale's hand, ignoring how nice it felt on his back, and reached out to touch the strings of an acoustic guitar that was mounted on the wall. Next to it hung a large Andy Warhol print. A collection of ugly truckers' caps were scattered about, and Randy picked one up. "Trying to look even more like Ashton Kutcher?" he asked, tossing it to Gale.

Gale put on the hat. "I'm _much_ prettier than Ashton," he said with a crooked smile.

Randy was inclined to agree, though he didn't say it out loud. His attention fell on a long row of hair products, lined up on a shelf. Underneath the shelf was an equally long row of designer shoes. He raised an eyebrow. "Do you even _wear_ all of these?" he asked with a nod in the direction of the footwear.

"Sure," Gale said. He took off the hat and tossed it aside, fixing his hair and hoping he didn't have hat head. "I've worn every pair at least once. You can never have too many shoes." He tossed his coat aside and sprawled out in an easy chair. "Have a seat."

"Okay," Randy said. Even though having a seat would precede the discussion of rimming with Gale. Which really wasn't a mental image that would help him keep is cool. Soon, he'd be thinking of _naked_ Gale, and he'd get flustered and blush, and lose all of his communication skills, besides a few random grunting noises.

He sat.

"What does it feel like?" Gale asked abruptly.

"Rimming?"

"Yeah."

"Amazing," Randy blurted. "I mean, if the guy really knows what he's doing." He picked at his right thumbnail with his left. "You can't just... dive right in. But if he's careful and patient, it's one of the most incredible feelings..."

"Describe it," Gale urged softly, moistening his lips with his tongue. It took all Randy's self-control to keep from diving across the trailer and kissing him until he couldn't move.

"I don't know if I can," Randy replied. And he couldn't. Without getting hard, anyway.

Gale leaned forward in his chair. "Try?"

Christ, the look on Gale's face... Randy swallowed hard and forced himself to look away. "It's hot," he said. "And wet. And everything's so sensitive..." He cleared his throat. "You open up so slowly..." He made the mistake of looking at Gale, who was looking intently back at him. A tense smile turned up the corners of his mouth. "I don't think that the words exist to really describe it."

"Thanks for attempting to explain it to me, anyway," Gale said, leaning back casually as if the room weren't crackling with sexual tension.

Then again, the tension could've just been Randy's overactive, and currently very turned on, imagination working against him. "You're welcome," he said in a low voice, all the while telling him to look away, and to do it before he did something he'd regret.

Randy exhaled a little sigh of relief [or was that regret?] when Gale broke eye contact. "You look a little flushed," Gale said. "Let me get you a bottle of water." He stood and stretched, then headed to his mini-fridge and pulled out two bottles of Evian, uncapping one and taking a few long swallows before setting it aside and approaching Randy with the other.

The younger man extended a hand, reaching for the bottle, but instead of handing it to him right away, Gale sat down next to him on the couch. Randy held out his hand, glancing from the water to Gale's face and back. Time seemed to stand still for a moment. Randy's pulse pounded loudly in his ears and he wrapped his fingers around the top of the water bottle, his hand brushing his co-star's.

Randy looked up. This time, Gale really was leaning toward him. He could feel Gale's breath, warm and moist on his cheek. He turned away at the last possible second. He was such a fucking wuss.

He closed his eyes, counted to three in his head, and had an Oh Fuck It moment. With a steadiness he didn't know he possessed around his co-star, he wrapped a hand around the back of Gale's neck and yanked him in for a heated kiss.

Gale cupped Randy's face with his palms as he actively returned the kiss, swiping his tongue along the seam of the blond's lips and humming softly. One of his hands slid back, over Randy's ear and into his hair, letting the soft strands slip through his fingers repeatedly. He experimented with different angles and pressures, discovering how much he liked Randy's upper lip.

They broke away for air, leaning heavily against each other.

Approximately two and a half seconds after that, Randy started to panic.

"Shit! Oh, shit, I'm sorry, Gale. I shouldn't have done th -- mmph!"

The dark-haired man cut him off quite effectively with another kiss. This time, their tongues slid together, hot and wet, and Randy barely noticed when his shirt was unbuttoned and pushed off his shoulders. The sensation of Gale's thumbs circling over his nipples, however, was enough to make him break the kiss.

"What now?" Gale asked as he left biting kisses across Randy's throat.

"Gale," Randy moaned, and he really didn't mean to sound so needy, especially when he was protesting. "Gale, you're -- ah -- you're straight," he reminded his co-star, clutching at his shoulders.

"That's what they tell me," Gale replied dryly.

With an act of supreme will, Randy pushed Gale away. "We should talk about this," he said. "I mean, you're really hot, and I'd _love_ to have sex with you, but -- "

"I'm straight. Yeah." Gale ran a finger down Randy's bare chest, then back up. "Not so much."

"And I'm worried that this might make things weird at work, and..." he trailed off, staring at Gale's lips, kiss-swollen and the color of ripe raspberries. It was then that Randy had his second Oh Fuck It moment of the day. He shoved Gale backwards and pushed up his shirt, attacking his mouth with harsh kisses. Fuck work, fuck the consequences. He was going to fuck Gale, right here, on Gale's... fucking _ugly_ couch.

Gale arched his back and allowed Randy to dominate him. He hissed into the slighter man's mouth when their covered cocks dragged against each other. Nudging Randy off him for a short moment, he tore his shirt over his head and tossed it aside, then slid his hands down the blond's back, his fingertips slipping underneath the waistband of Randy's pants. "Jesus fuck," he hissed as Randy bit down on one of his nipples and cupped his crotch.

"Take these off," Randy said, sitting back to remove his own pants. "Let me see you."

"You've seen it before," Gale said as he shoved his jeans down past his hips and kicked them off.

Randy's hands slid up Gale's thighs. "Not like this," he replied. "You're beautiful," he murmured as he crawled back up Gale's body and settled atop him.

"Am not," Gale muttered, groaning softly when their cocks aligned and rubbed together. "Shut up."

"Alright," Randy said, and kissed him again. He pulled back after a moment, running the back of his hand over Gale's cheek. "What do you want?"

Gale bit his lip. He looked at Randy with an almost shy expression on his face. "I want to taste you," he said hesitantly.

The blond smiled and kissed Gale reassuringly. "Go ahead," he urged, moving off Gale and leaning back against the arm of the couch.

The taller man looked Randy over and swallowed hard. "Um..."

Randy took his hand and pulled him closer. "Come here," he said. He guided Gale forward until he was settled comfortably, then petted his hair. "You can touch me any way you want, Gale," he murmured. "I promise you, I won't mind. At all." He kissed Gale's lips, then his cheek, then his shoulder. "Here. Do what I do."

Gale sighed when careful fingers wrapped around the base of his cock and pulled upwards. He rested his forehead on Randy's shoulder and reached between them, mimicking the other man's actions. "Feels good..." he whispered.

"Yeah," Randy agreed. He kissed Gale again. "Do you want me to go first?"

"No," Gale said. "No. I want to do this." A pause. "How exactly do I do this?"

"If you're doing it right, I'll definitely let you know."

Gale nodded a little jerkily, then moved down Randy's body slowly, exploring his torso with hands and lips. He tested the texture of Randy's pubic hair with his palm, finding that it was softer than his own. Randy's cock jutted out, hard and full, straining up toward his belly. Gale gave the head an experimental lick.

Randy groaned and arched up toward Gale's mouth.

Gale took that as a good sign, so he licked again.

"God, Gale," Randy groaned, his hand curling around the back of the other man's head and threading through his hair. He hadn't had to worry about coming too soon since high school, but _ooohhhfuck_ , Gale was a natural. And when he thought about how long he'd thought about this, he found his hips twitching and his cock throbbing in such a way that he knew, he just _knew_ , that if Gale didn't pull back soon, this whole thing would be over before he wanted it to be. "Stop," he rasped.

Gale lifted his head, a bewildered expression on his face. "Did I do something wrong?" he asked. He licked his lips, shiny with saliva and precome, and Randy groaned.

"No, no," the blond assured him. "I'm just afraid if you keep it up, I'll come."

"Isn't that the point?" Gale leaned down to suck Randy's dick back into his mouth.

Randy stopped him. "I want to fuck you," he murmured.

Gale smiled. "Took you long enough to admit it," he replied, returning to his previous position, on his back on the fucking ugly couch.

"Your couch is _so_ ugly," Randy said as he grabbed his jeans off the floor and pulled out a condom and a miniature tube of lubricant. "I don't have to explain this to you, do I?" he asked.

"You can if you want to," Gale said. "Talk me through it."

Randy snorted a laugh. "If you insist. First, I put on a condom..."

"I know that part," the dark-haired man said with a laugh. He wiggled his hips as Randy settled atop him.

Randy decided that if Gale kept wiggling his hips, he wouldn't be held responsible for his actions. He gripped Gale's waist, pressing him against the couch to still him. "Cut that out," he said with a smile. "I don't want to fuck you senseless."

Gale looked almost crestfallen.

"... the first time," Randy added with a leer.

He then decided that the same went for Gale's brilliant smiles, as did for his hip wiggles. He couldn't get the lube open fast enough.

Out of consideration for Gale -- and also so they wouldn't have to re-enact the first sex scene they'd ever filmed for the show -- Randy rubbed his slicked hands together for a minute to warm the lubricant before sitting back on his haunches. He wrapped one slippery hand around Gale's cock and fisted it slowly. "Pull your legs up," he said.

Gale lifted his legs, hooking his arms behind them, then licked his lips. Randy leaned down and captured them in a kiss, unable to resist that nimble, pink tongue. "Hmm," Gale murmured against Randy's lips. "Feels good."

Randy nodded, then sat back again and looked down. "Shit," he growled. "You're so fucking hot." Still jacking Gale off slowly, Randy slid further down the couch, licking a broad stripe across the other man's inner thigh. He nuzzled Gale's sac with his lips, then pointed his tongue and dragged it from the crease just below his balls to Gale's tight, pink hole.

Gale's entire body spasmed as Randy's tongue encountered his asshole the first time. "Fuck," he gasped. Yeah, the teasing over the past few weeks? Definitely worth it.

Randy couldn't help it. Really. He just couldn't stop the words from flowing right out of his mouth when he lifted his head and listened to Gale gasping and moaning. "Now you know what rimming is," he said.

Gale snorted a laugh.

Randy took advantage of Gale's relaxed state and wiggled a finger into his ass. Naturally, Gale clamped down like a vise. "Relax," Randy murmured. "Don't make me recite more of your lines."

"Relax. Easy for you to say," Gale replied. "It's not a common occurrence for people other than my doctor to stick their fingers in my ass."

Randy probed slightly and crooked his finger. "We'll just have to change that, won't we?" he asked.

Gale lifted his head to look down at Randy. "And what makes you so sure that I'm going to let y -- oh Jesus _fuck_ \-- do it again."

The blond man smiled smugly. "That," he said. He thrust his finger in and out a few times, then picked up the lube and added more. "Here," he said, pressing the lube into Gale's hand and releasing his cock, "make yourself useful." With both hands free, he worked patiently at stretching and preparing Gale. Then he unwrapped the condom and slipped it in place. "You know what happens now, right?"

The dark-haired man looked from Randy's sheathed erection, to his own legs, and then back again. Twice. "I don't think I'm capable of bending in half like you are," he said finally. "In fact, I'd probably get stuck in that position, and never be able to act again. Then you'd have to give me pity money, because it'd be your fault that I got stuck in the first place, so -- "

"Roll over?" Randy suggested.

"Hmm," Gale said. "Get out of my way, and I will."

Randy moved back as Gale stretched out his long legs, then turned over to his stomach. He ran a hand up the smooth expanse of Gale's back. "Here," he said, catching one of the dark-haired man's legs with his hand. "Put your foot on the floor, like this."

Gale nodded and buried his face in his forearms as Randy positioned him on the couch.

Randy moaned softly when Gale wiggled his hips. Again. He was seriously thinking about writing his senator asking Congress to outlaw Gale's hip wiggles. He closed his eyes for a moment to focus, then rested his hands on Gale's upper thighs and moved in. His cock dragged along the crack of Gale's ass.

Gale jumped.

"Easy," Randy murmured, rubbing little circles on the small of Gale's back with the heel of his hand.

"Do me a favor?" Gale asked, lifting his head and twisting his neck to look back at Randy.

"Yeah?"

The dark-haired man flashed a lopsided smile. "Fuck me before I wuss out?"

"I can do that." Randy reached down and positioned his cock at Gale's hole. "I need you to take a deep breath."

Gale inhaled, and suddenly found the head of Randy's cock wedged into his ass. "I'd be lying if I said this felt pleasant," he sing-songed through gritted teeth.

"It'll pass." The blond's hand continued to rub Gale's back. He held himself still for a moment, waiting for Gale to adjust. "Okay?"

"Do it," Gale muttered.

"Push out like you're trying to take a dump," Randy instructed.

"That's a turn-on," Gale snarked, but did as he was told.

Randy gripped Gale's hips tighter and pushed forward, through any remaining resistance. And holy _shit_ it felt good. Gale's ass was all silk and rippling muscles and vice-tight heat, and Randy wondered if they could film the rest of the series in this position, because he didn't ever want to move. "Are you alright?" he asked as his thumbs found the little dimples at the base of Gale's spine.

Gale nodded and shifted beneath Randy. "I'm good," he said. "You can move now if you want."

Randy leaned down and kissed Gale's shoulder, then slowly drew back his hips. "You feel incredible," he crooned as his cock slid back inside. He rotated his hips, slipping a bit deeper with each forward rock.

"Look," Gale said, shifting his hips restlessly as Randy moved carefully inside him. "I know that because this is my first time being fucked, you're worried that you might hurt me, or offend me, or possibly scar me for life, by being too rough with me. But whatever you dish out, I promise I can take it." I think.

"Are you sure?" Randy asked, his rhythm faltering only slightly at the thought of being able to fuck Gale as hard as he wanted. But who could blame him -- he'd only been fantasizing about this since the first day Gale had walked on set.

"Do you really think that I'd be spread out like this if I wasn't sure?" Gale countered, pushing back against Randy. "Fuck me."

"If you insist," Randy said, leaning back and groping for a pillow near his knees. "Lift up."

Gale pushed up onto his hands and knees briefly, while Randy wedged the pillow under his hips. "Is this the part where you say 'brace yourself' and I hold onto the couch for dear life?"

"Something like that," Randy conceded. "Ready?"

"I'm naked, with your dick in my ass, and my own dick is hard enough to drill through the pillow you just shoved under it. What do you think?" Gale asked. He wrapped his hands around the arm of the couch and tightened them. "Do it, Randy."

Randy placed his foot on the floor behind Gale's for better leverage. He gripped Gale's thigh and shoved his hips forward, gratified with a rough groan from the man beneath him. "So fucking tight," he moaned, leaning forward to lick the back of Gale's neck.

Gale arched his back with a shudder and gritted his teeth. His toes curled as Randy shifted his hips, angling his cock differently. "Fuck," he hissed.

Oh, yeah. That was the spot, right there. Randy jabbed at Gale's prostate with the head of his cock, then continued thrusting, dragging his cock along the sensitive gland with each pump. His hips were flying now and he savored the stinging slap of his sac against Gale's ass. He was going to have to pinch himself in a few minutes to make sure this wasn't another one of his elaborate jerk-off fantasies or a wet dream.

Thrusting against the pillow in time with the strokes of Randy's cock in his ass, Gale moaned the blond's name. He gasped loudly when Randy's teeth sank lightly into his shoulder, followed by a laving tongue. He was going into sensory overload, and damn if he'd do anything to prevent it. "Rand -- I'm gonna... _fuck_..."

"So hot," Randy murmured, draping himself over Gale's back and worrying the dark-haired man's earlobe with his teeth. "Come, Gale. All over your ugly-ass couch."

"Thanks for your permission," Gale rasped, "but I can -- " he broke off on a groan, " -- hold out if you can."

"It's not a contest," Randy grunted, circling his hips against Gale's. "Don't hold back." He twisted his body so he could get a hand between them and fondle the dark-haired man's balls. "So heavy," he murmured.

Gale's lips parted and he arched his neck, thrusting mindlessly back against Randy. Without a further thought about how much work it would take to get come out of the material, he ground down into his pillow. His back muscles twitched and his entire body tensed. "Fuck," he gasped again, biting down on the arm of the couch as he came.

Randy wondered what it would feel like to have those teeth sinking into his skin. He reared back with a few jerky, final thrusts, and collapsed on top of Gale with a groan, his body shuddering and his cock throbbing.

As soon as he pulled out, he wanted back in.

Gale pulled the soiled pillow out from underneath him and turned onto his back, legs splayed lazily and his chest heaving as he struggled to get his breathing under control. He watched Randy move across the trailer, dispose of the used condom, then pluck up a towel and clean himself off. He stretched.

Randy returned to the couch, perching on the edge and manipulating Gale's now pliant body so that he could clean him up. He winced in sympathy at the sight of the lean man's reddened little hole, patting lube away carefully with the towel. The _snick_ of a lighter drew Randy's attention away from Gale's groin.

Gale offered him a cigarette, then took another drag off his.

The blond man lit up, and they smoked in silence for awhile, both of them naked, sweaty, and looking well-fucked. Eventually Randy settled on the thickly-carpeted floor, propping his chin up on his hands, that rested low on Gale's belly.

"So," Gale finally said. "What's up with you not liking my couch, anyway?"


End file.
